How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. I can assure you, I wouldn’t be single again for worlds. ” “You must admit,” he declared, “that to us—who had seen you—the thought of your trying anything else was amazing.
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